Distraction
by Courbeau
Summary: It's just another ordinary day and lunch at the diner is called for. Until they realize someone is tailing them. Booth has an idea.


"No, Booth. It would depend on the force used and sharpness of the blade. For example, skin is very easy to penetrate. Depending on the sharpness of the blade, it would take less than a pound of pressure to cut through it. If the blade were duller, it would leave staining on the bone from the blood collecting there once haemorrhaging began, as the first blow wasn't fatal. But the bone breakage indicates more force. Her bones would have to have sustained at least _nine_ pounds of pressure in order for that specific breakage pattern. Along with the fractures, Angela recreated a hypothetical situation that explains all the markings we found with what we found the remains with."

Booth rolled his eyes and changed lanes.

"Which I will watch when we get back to the lab."

Bones turned in her seat, looking strangely at him.

"Booth, there is a vicious killer out there. I told you how much force was needed to break all those bones. And the scrapings on the bone indicate-"

"Bones, it's lunch time," Booth looked back at her with a frown. "Plus, I have to run over all this evidence with you. I had Charlie look up this Hemmings guy. He seems pretty suspicious." Booth's eyes flitted about the road around him, taking everything in.

"Is that the man from the victim's gym?" Her tone had returned to normal, and she was sitting comfortably in her seat, having found his case file, rifling through it.

"Yeah. He's a body builder; the force thing wouldn't be hard for him. Amanda was just a little thing, right?"

Bones answered automatically.

"Five foot four."

Booth turned onto the familiar street, eyes locked on the rear view mirror.

"Exactly. It would have been easy for him to force her. Plus, he's got priors. He's been changed with a B and E and served his sentence for that. They couldn't find convincing evidence, so they let him off with six months in the can and community service. He's got records of steroid use. That could explain the violence, right?"

"Yes. Side effects include LDL cholesterol increase, decrease in HDL cholesterol, decrease in liver enzymes, sterility, balding, acne, and what is commonly referred to as 'roid rage'."

"Right. Does that guy look familiar to you?"

Bones looked up.

"Who?"

"The guy behind us," Booth answered casually. They were slowing and he looked around for a parking spot, sliding into one easily.

Bones had turned in her seat to see the man in question slide slowly by them. She watched him for the few seconds he was in her line of sight. Turning back to Booth, she shrugged.

"No, but he doesn't have any distinct features that would stand out that I noticed."

Booth frowned and pulled his keys from the ignition quickly, jingling them.

"Why?" Bones prompted.

Booth looked at her, puzzled.

"I thought I saw him this morning on my street." He paused. "Oh, well. I'm starved. Let's get a seat at the diner." His face brightened and it was Bones' turn to roll her eyes as she hopped out of the vehicle and was quickly ushered into the busy diner, Booth's hand resting on her back.

They were seated right away, even though the diner looked like it was at its peak lunch time capacity. The waitress nodded to them, motioning to the coffee and Booth nodded, smiling, as she set to pull two freshly cleaned cups from the counter.

Bones extracted herself from her jacket as placed it around the back of her chair. Booth saw her pause as she sat down, a slight puzzled expression gracing her features. He frowned again in response.

"Bones, what's-" She shook her head sharply and pulled a paper napkin towards her. She dug in her jacket pocket for a pen and scrawled a hasty message to Booth, before pushing it into his hands.

'_The man you said you saw on your street and behind us in the car is sitting right behind you. His body language is suspicious. Say something about the case.'_

Booth looked up and straightened almost imperceptibly.

"So, have you found anything new on the case?"

Bones' suspicions were confirmed when the man turned his head to listen to what they were saying. She surveyed his stance and concluded he was hunching over something; he was wearing a wire. She didn't recognize him, other than as the man in the car outside.

She answered Booth calmly, while scribbling a new message. The blood was pulsing in her ears.

"No. Angela is still working on the facial reconstruction. She has narrowed down our missing persons pool, but we won't be sure until Cam is finished with the DNA profile."

Booth frowned. They knew who it was. Angela had already done the face, and DNZ was already confirmed. He blinked and then grinned. She was improvising. He looked at the new note in front of him.

'_He's interested in the case. And he's wearing a wire.'_

Next to the short line was a thorough description of the man and his car that Bones could see parked a few yards away outside. Booth grinned again and his eyes gleamed as a plan formed in his head.

"Well, I talked to my mother this morning. She said she thinks August is a good time to have the wedding, if you're partial to summer. I said I would mention it."

Bones blinked in shock.

"What?"

"She said that she found this really nice area near Philly. Something about flowers and the view. She said you might want to consider it. Summertime would be nice, don't you think?"

The waitress chose that moment to show up with two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. She set them down, and Bones didn't hear the short conversation that went on before her eyes as Booth ordered his usual. She just nodded when the woman turned to her and asked if she wanted what sounded like she normally had.

Bones was frozen. She couldn't ask what he meant, because he was obviously distracting the guy behind him with other talk. He was scratching out a message for her as she stared with wide eyes.

"I mean, if you want spring, or fall even, we could do that instead. I don't mind." He pushed the napkin back across the table to her.

'_Put your mother's ring on your left hand.'_

Realization dawned across Bones' face, and Booth chuckled. She quickly pulled the ring her mother had left for her off her right hand, and switched it to her left ring finger. It felt very strange there, making her hand feel unbalanced.

"I like summer. But I didn't know we had decided to have the ceremony near your parents place. What about Dad? And Russ and Amy and the girls? Wouldn't it be easier for your parents to come up here?"

Booth beamed at her as she responded and placed her left hand in full view on the table. Bones slipped into her character; it was like going under cover. If she imagined herself as more of an audience member watching herself play a role, and she critiqued herself, it made it easier. Easier to be a completely different person, but still the same Bones.

"I'll ask. I think she was just really excited about the place she found."

"Next time we visit, we should go see it and decide. But I'd like a July wedding," Bones added sugar and cream to her coffee, idly stirring the spoon around. She passed the utensil to Booth when she was done, and he accepted, stirring in his own sugar.

"She said it's on a plot of land, right near a church. If that makes any difference. And she had Dad dig out her old wedding dress," Booth grinned from across the table.

The guy behind him had covertly cast a glance over his shoulder, searching for Bones' hands. She saw him spot the ring and blink in surprise, turning back in a fashion he thought was discreet.

Bones laughed.

"What?" Booth asked, taking a slurp of the brew.

"Well. I'm not Catholic. I don't believe in God. I don't think you're mother has been as accepting to that fact as you have. I told her I didn't want to get married in a church. I told her we had decided together. She's very insistent."

It was Booth's turn to laugh.

"Well, so is your father. When we made the announcement, he told me to work on convincing you to let him give you away. He said to start right away, because you're so damn stubborn."

Bones snorted into her cup, and Booth watched the ring on her left hand glint under the lights of the diner as she raised her hand to her face.

"I don't need him to _give me away_. That, along with your mother's _white_ dress... Well, it just doesn't make sense. It's not logical for me to be given away by my father who abandoned me at fifteen."

Their orders were placed in front of them, and they began eating mindlessly. Booth added ketchup to his burger, and Bones shook up the Italian dressing before tossing some in with her salad and reaching for a handful of Booth's fries.

"And what's wrong with her white dress?" Booth mocked, chewing and laughing at the same time.

"Well, the white dress symbolizes purity and virginity on the wedding day. And we _both_ know that's not the case. It's illogical to honour that tradition when I've been sexually active since I-"

Booth choked at the sudden turn in conversation.

"I get it, Bones, jeez," he wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin, staring down at his depleting pile of fries. Stuffing the last bite of burger into his mouth, he chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "I didn't expect you to wear her dress. Well, what would you wear then?"

Bones stopping spearing her lettuce and cucumber for a minute.

"Well, in the summer, it's only practical to wear something light; I was never one for princess dresses anyway. Maybe a nice sundress? Have everyone wear less formal wedding attire. I'm sure they'd appreciate it, especially if we decide to do it outside. I don't know about you, but, getting away from the death of the office might do me some good." She smiled and forked more greens into her mouth.

"Have you asked Angela to be the Maid of Honour yet?" Booth squirted ketchup onto his plate and looked up at her, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, of course. I had to give her plenty of warning. Also, she would have flayed me if I hadn't asked as soon as I said yes to you. Have you decided between Jared and Hodgins? Or are you thinking about anyone else now? I'm not sure who is usually asked to be Best Man, but assume it will be the one most important to you."

"Well, it's who I want it to be. Who I trust more. And in this case, who's in the country. Jared sent me a postcard from South Africa dated for a few weeks ago. So, unless he gets his ass back to the US by the summer, it's going to be Hodgins," Booth sniggered. "But I was thinking we could ask Zack to be the flower girl." His laughing graduated to near hysterics as Bones watched, with a tentative smile on her face.

"I don't know what that means."

Booth rubbed his eyes, still smiling.

"Well, Parker could be the ring bearer. But we need a flower girl. It's Zack or Sweets. Oh, Sweets. I think we should ask Sweets. Can we?" Booth couldn't keep his face straight at that, and dissolved once again into a heap of guffawing male.

Bones sighed, and swiped her fork over her tongue, collecting the last of the vinaigrette.

"If you can convince him, I'm pretty sure people would pay money to see it. Although, don't be surprised if he never wants to see you again. Sweets tends to get rather upset when you imply he is pre-pubescent. Now you would be calling him a girl, too," she shook her head. "But speaking of flowers..."

Booth downed the rest of his coffee smoothly.

"Daisies. I know. I like daisies too."

Bones smiled gratefully.

"And speaking of _girls_..." Booth placed two bills on the table, enough to cover their lunch, and slipped the napkin with their writing on it in his pocket. Both rose up, and Booth helped Bones into her jacket and she pulled her hair from under the collar. She turned to glare at him, catching the mysterious man turn at their abrupt departure, quietly scrambling to keep up.

"You _know_ I don't want kids, Booth. I never have. I am fairly certain my mind won't be swayed."

They were walking to the door, and Booth's hand was at her back again. He leaned in closer, speaking quietly and directly into her ear, his breath brushing her neck and warming her skin.

"Not even when you could see a little girl with your face and my eyes running around, asking about bones and throwing a football around in the house, even though she's been told a thousand times to take it outside?"

The diner door tinkled as they exited and Bones' lips thinned into a line.

The pair made their way to the SUV quietly and climbed in, synchronized.

Booth shoved the key into the ignition and sat back, smirking at Bones as she stared out the windshield at the wire-man, watching him scramble around to pay for his coffee and catch up to them.

"About five foot nine, approximately one hundred and eighty five pounds. Caucasian male. Brown hair, brown eyes. Left handed."

Booth looked at the man, dropping his smirk.

"He's got a weapon under his shirt, and on his ankle. He's wearing a wire, you were right."

They were both silent for a minute longer, watching the man weave through the people on the street back to his own car.

"He's got some sort of gang tattoo on his neck. I've seen it before. I'll look it up."

"He had a broken right tibia, probably in childhood, and it looks like it wasn't set right. I can't be certain, but his gait indicates he may have damaged his right iliac crest as well. I would have to see some x-rays to confirm that, but I think I would find damage there if I examined some scans."

Booth paused, blinking at her.

"Okay," he said, his tone conclusive. "I'll look up that tattoo and you..."

"Will have Angela look at medical records, assuming you come up with some names. We'll compare facts and hopefully come up with a man to track down and question."

"Okay," Booth repeated.

He turned the engine over as Bones buckled up and pulled out her phone, checking her messages from the lunch hour.

Booth concentrated on the road and tried not to grin.

The silence was deafening. Resolve cracked.

"So, Bones. Thinking about marrying me?" Booth's smirk was hitched back into place.

"It was hypothetical, Booth." She continued to scowl slightly out the passenger side window, watching the passers-by with intense interest as the vehicle sped back toward the Jeffersonian.

"So, _hypothetically_, you'd marry me."

"No," she turned to glare at him again, "_if_ I was going to marry you, _hypothetically_, I wouldn't wear a white because white is a symbol of purity and virginity. I am most definitely not a virgin. _Hypothetically_, Angela would be my Maid of Honour and Hodgins would be your Best Man, because Angela is my best friend and Jared is out of the country; Hodgins is the next best choice. _Hypothetically_, our flower arrangements would have lots of daisies, because I love them and you agree with the selection."

"Hypothetically," Booth agreed and his smirk threatened to crack his face as he turned the corner and she fiddled with her ring, still securely on her left hand.

* * *

**Better? Funnier than the last one?**

**Anyways, this was a blast to write, and I hope you all enjoyed it.**

**As always, I'd like to know what you thought.**


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